


Italy 1520

by theRavenMuse



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), gets cute eventually, meet but not cute, not edited, sick fic sort of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29549100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theRavenMuse/pseuds/theRavenMuse
Summary: Our favorite angel/demon duo never met on that wall in Eden. Maybe Aziraphale got called away on some other mission, or maybe Crowley found a really sunny spot and snoozed a little too long. Either way, it’s 1520 in a moderately sized town on the Italian coast and ineffability is about to catch up with our man-shaped beings.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	Italy 1520

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one sitting mostly during class today and it has not been edited nor beta read. Apologies in advance. Feel free to point out all of the horrendous mistakes I've made but don't expect me to correct them. As always, constructive criticism on the story, characterization, flow, sentence structure, etc. is greatly appreciated.

Aziraphale paused. There was a demonic presence nearby. He frowned and set off towards the source. It was a lone one story building set up as a hospital at the edge of the town. The demon must be making people sick. The energy he was picking up was just the lingering demonic magic. But it felt so strong for just that? 

Aziraphale wandered into the entryway. He was drawn towards the main room which housed a few dozen cots along the walls, most of them with patients. He crossed the threshold. The smell of demon hit him so hard that he stumbled back. He was here, right there, crouching down next to a small child. He was a slim creature with pale skin and long flaming copper locks that were tied loosely behind him with a strip of black ribbon. A pair of colored glasses hid his eyes.

“Away, demon!” Aziraphale screamed and launched himself at the fiend. 

The demon turned just in time to meet Azirapahale’s right hook with the edge of his jaw. Bone shattered under the angel’s first and the demon fell back with a pained cry. His glasses fell away, revealing yellow serpentine eyes. Aziraphale smashed the disks under his heel. The demon leapt up and made a dash for the door. He wasn’t fast enough. Aziraphale slammed him to the ground drawing a sharp yelp from his target. 

The room erupted into chaos. Children screamed. Patients fell as they struggled from their beds. A vicar pushed his way through the crowd. “The devil, you said?”

“No, just a demon.” Aziraphale grabbed the demon by his hair and yanked his head up so that the vicar could see the creature's eyes. The man gasped and grabbed his crucifix in a trembling hand. The demon struggled harder. He tapped into a well of energy at his center, but Aziraphale countered him, shoving the evil power back down inside of the creature’s body before he could do any harm. The demon hissed and spit in anger.

“He must be taken back to the church. Father Andrea will know how to deal with him. I do know a few things, though.” The vicar opened his holy book to a marked page and began reading the recorded latin. The demon screamed at the first word. His corporation went rigid and trembled. The vicar paused for a breath. The demon gasped and fell limp. When the vicar spoke again, the demon curled into a ball and screamed. Aziraphale sensed a jagged slice through the demon’s essence as he was cut off from his powers. He gasped and coughed weakly. 

“Thank you friend, may God continue to watch over you,” the vicar said to Aziraphale. “Carlo, Daniele, come help me.” The vicar’s companions came forward and pulled the demon to his feet, grabbing an arm each. He stood on shaky legs that likely wouldn’t have held him if he hadn’t the support of the two men. 

Aziraphale watched as the men dragged the demon away. He couldn’t destroy a demon, celestial treaties and all that, but in no way was he obliged to stop humans from doing the destruction, and they’d gotten quite good at it over the last few millennia. 

A quiet whimper turned Aziraphale’s attention back to the demon's target, clinging right to his mother. He couldn’t be more than four. “Here,” Aziraphale beckoned, “let me look him over.” He held his breath as the mother pressed the boy to him. On first glance, he was completely fine, maybe he’d interrupted the demon before he’d had his chance to harm this one. Still, one couldn’t be too careful. He used his other eyes to study the child. He was fine. Nothing was wrong with him at all, which was odd, considering that he’d been apparently brought here to revive medical help.

“What is wrong with the child?”

“He’s had a cough going on for a week now, but this morning he started coughing up blood. I think he’s got the sickness that’s been going around.”

Interesting. Aziraphale turned his attention back to the boy. Yes, there was a little something there. Or, something that used to be there. A sort of supernatural stitch wound around a spot in the boy’s chest. He’d been healed. Aziraphale cast his senses out, searching for some other angel in the area. There wasn’t one. There hadn’t been one any time recently. The only lingering presence was the demon’s. But a demon wouldn’t heal a human. 

“Is something wrong?” 

The mother’s words pulled Aziraphale out of his trancelike state and he realized that he had been staring at the boy for quite some time with a concerned look.

“Oh,” Aziraphale chuckled to ease the woman’s concerns. “No, nothing wrong. Just lost myself a bit. Good news, he doesn’t have anything dangerous. Just a common cough that got a bit carried away with itself. Make a tea from the plants and give it to him three times a day for a few days and he’ll be right as rain.”

Aziraphale handed over a packet of leaves that had no particular value in healing, but would smell and taste quite lovely. The mother took them with a smile and tucked them away.

“Thank you so much. You must be close to God, to have seen that demon for what it was. I can’t bear to think what may have happened if you weren’t here.”

“Yes, yes,” Aziraphale agreed dismissively. “Go on home now.” He placed an extra blessing on both mother and son that would keep them safe from the cough in the future. 

@ / &^

Crowley winced at every step. His legs felt like jelly with needles stabbing in at every space. He couldn’t slow or the men would pull him off of his feet. He didn’t doubt they would drag him all the way to… wherever they were going. 

The man leading the way in front was warning people to stay back and loudly declaring his capture of a demon. A man, a human man. Crowely growled. As if he would have stood a chance if that angel hadn’t interfered with his work. But still, this man had known the right words to hurt him. Crowely managed to lift his head enough to catch a good look at him. A vicar. Shit. They were going to a church. 

Crowely skidded to a stop, digging his heels into the earth despite the pain that shot through his body. The men yanked him forward and he didn’t have the strength to resist them. He hissed and threw his head back, baring his sharper than human teeth and serpentine golden eyes. The crowd backed away, huddling against the buildings that lined the streets. Crowley’s captors continued on, persevering through his protests. Their fingers tightened painfully around his wrists. What he wouldn’t give to shift back into his snake form now, but that path was blocked to him. This human corporation was stuck to him like a sticky glove that didn't have quite the right shape. 

They turned a corner and the church came into view down the street. It’s bell tower cast up toward the heavens. Crowley let out a growl that came out as more of a whine. The townspeople were gathering behind him in a hoard. The priest emerged from the church’s doorway, stern faced. Crowley screamed and writhed the last stretch as he was dragged up the church steps and pushed to his knees. 

The priest held up a hand, silencing the gathered mob, leaving Crowley’s screams to scatter out alone. More men came forward and held him by the shoulders. Someone grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back so that his face was pointed skyward. 

The sun shone down through the clouds, resting warmly against his skin. “Are you watching now?!” he howled. “Are you even listening?! Would you care if you were?! God?! You made me this way!”

“Quite, demon! We have no need for your blasphemy here,” The priest ordered. He held his bottle of holy water over Crowley’s head. Crowley screeched and struggled but the hands held him in place. The bottle tipped and three drops of holy water fell to sizzle against his skin. Crowley screamed and thrashed as stars erupted across his vision. He hadn’t come back from that before his body started seizing. He coughed and howled as the priest recited his exorcism. It wouldn’t work, not when the demon didn’t have a human body to be separated from, but it hurt like hell, well, possibly a little worse than hell. 

He must have blacked out completely, because when he opened his eyes there were no bruising hands holding his body and the priest and vicar both knelt on the stone next to him, speaking soft words. Crowely snarled and lunged towards them, just missing the priests chest with his clawed fingers. He caught the priest's rosary beads instead and fell back with a scream as the pain spiked up through his arm and his chest. 

Uncountable hands were grabbing at him, hauling him up the sharp stone steps and into the church. His backside felt the sting first as he was drug over the threshold and into the consecrated church. He screamed and arched up, only to have his feet get the brunt of the fire. He screamed and struggled, but every way he turned, his skin burned. The heavy doors slammed shut behind them, shutting out that light so that only the light bounced down from the high ceiling lit the space. 

The now much smaller mob dragged Crowely down the aisle between the benches and off through a hallway. He was barely conscious enough to keep track of the few turns it took them to reach a backroom. They threw him down and held him, belly down to the burning floor. Rough hands chained his wrists and his ankles together and locked a heavy iron collar around his neck and chained it to a ring on the floor. 

They stepped back then. Crowely screamed and thrashed, pulling vainly against the collar and chain, burning his knees and elbows against the consecrated stone all the while. They watched with emotionless gazes as he finally cried out one last time and collapsed, the side of his face and his belly taking the worst of the burning. He whimpered between sobbs, loud enough that he barely caught the men’s words. 

“Didn’t work?”

“Try again?”

“Call in the Archbishop?”

@ / &^

Aziraphale walked up the church steps, taking a moment to appreciate the magnificence of the architecture. But he wasn’t here for architecture. 

“You can’t enter here, good sir. There is a demon trapped within these walls.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I know. I think it’s time for a quick nap, don’t you?”

The guard frowned, yawned, and nodded. He sat down against a wall and promptly fell asleep. Aziraphale gave him a slight smile and continued on through the doorways. It was easy to find the demon, his struggles had left a gruesome trail of burnt black demon blood after him that led Aziraphale through the hallways of the church until he hit a door. He pushed it open.

The demon lay still and silent in the center of the belltower floor with his back to Aziraphale. The angel circled wide around him, letting his gaze wander up to the skyward bell and his footsteps fall heavy. The demon stirred and his eyes slitted open, just enough for that bright yellow light to fall through.

Aziraphale knelt in front of the creature. “I know honesty is not among your strongest traits, demon, but it would serve you well to use all of your candor now.”

The demon nodded weakly and let his eyes fall closed again.

“What were your intentions with that child?”

The demon’s voice was quiet and sore when he spoke. “He was sick. Made him better.”

Aziraphale paused, not quite believing the demon, despite the evidence he’d seen before. “Why did you heal him?”

“He was sick.”

“But why? You're a demon. You don’t heal humans.”

“S’not against the rules.”

“It’s-?! Do you really expect me to believe that you healed that boy because you wanted him to get better? You want me to believe that you had no ulterior motive?”

The demon moaned and shifted. “Don’t care what you believe, angel. Can’t you let a demon suffer in peace?”

Aziraphale huffed. “Apparently not.” He took the chain in his hands and snapped a link between his fingers. The clatter of metal stirred the demon enough to open his eyes again. Aziraphale scooped him up into his arms and cradled him close to his chest.

“Ngk?” The demon groaned, but he settled against Aziraphales chest with a sigh of relief at his separation from the consecrated stone. Aziraphale spread his wings and pushed himself and the demon in his arms up through the air, climbing to the top of the bell tower where he slipped out through the opening and glided out into the pale sunrise. 

@ / &^

Crowley stirred slowly from a deep sleep. His body burned and ached and he was so tired. Tired, but he couldn’t rest. Something was wrong. He tried to sit up, but the clatter of chains stopped him. He yelped and tugged harder, finding his wrist chained to a steel rod embedded in the wall. Movement drew his eyes to a doorway where the angel was entering. Crowley gasped and struggled harder. 

“Please. I don’t know what you want from me. I’ll tell you anything you want, do whatever you want.” The angel drew closer and Crowely cowered down against the floor and wall. 

“I want you to stop struggling,” the angel commanded. 

Crowely whimpered and nodded. “Y- yes. I won’t struggle. Please.”

“You’ve gone and hurt yourself more. I need to get a look at your injuries.”

“Ngk?”

“Just sit up for me, please.”

Crowley shuddered and sat enough to lean against the wall. The angel knelt right next to him and reached for his face. Crowley whimpered and turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut and burning his face against his shoulder.

The angel’s hands didn’t touch him. “I’m not going to hurt you. Can you turn back toward me, please?”

Crowely very much did not want this angel’s tone to change into something more insistent. He turned back toward the angel, but kept his head down and his eyes closed. 

“There, you're alright, see?” The angel's fingers settled beneath his chin, lifting his face gently up. Crowley shuddered but didn’t resist. Something smelled sweet. Soft fingers massaged a cream into a painful area of Crowley’s face. He winced, but didn’t pull away. It felt nice, actually. Whatever it was eased the burn until he could almost ignore it. 

Crowley slowly dared to open his eyes and he watched the angel repeat the process across his body. More of his skin was burned than not, some of it deep enough that white bone peeked through. The angel glanced up and caught him watching. He smiled. My name’s Aziraphale, and, as you’ve realized now, I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?”

Crowley blinked and swallowed nervously. “Crowley,” he croaked through a dry throat.

“Oh, my dear, I didn’t think. Give me just a moment. Aziraphale scampered off and returned with a cup of water. He held the cup to Crowley’s lips and tilted gently. Crowely drank and hummed appreciatively. 

“Why am I here?” Crowley asked. If his pupils happened to be blown wide open, that could be blamed on the low light in the room. 

“I-” Aziraphale paused. “It didn’t seem fair; you doing a good thing and getting punished for it.”

Crowley snarled defensively, scaring Aziraphale back a few steps. “I don’t do good things.”

“Oh?”

“He was sick. Don’t like seeing people sick, ‘specially kids. Bothers me. Personally. Purely selfish.”

“Hm. You know, the humans call that compassion.”

Crowley’s ears turned bright red. “Shut up,” he hissed without his usual cool tone. He tugged forlornly at the chains and glanced back to the angel with what was possibly maybe a bit of a pout. 

Aziraphale frowned, considering. “You know, I can take those chains off, but I really think it’s best that you stay with me until those burns heal, or at least until your magic comes back.”

“How- how long does that take?” Crowley asked with a tremor in his voice. 

Aziraphale smiled softly. “I don’t know. I’m terribly sorry, my dear.” 

Crowley tugged on the chains again. There was definitely a pout involved this time. 

Aziraphale sighed. “Well, that does look rather uncomfortable. I suppose I can’t really expect you to stay that way for who knows how long. You’ll have to promise not to harm me.”

Crowley chuckled. “You trust the word of a demon?”

“Well, you’ve told me the truth one time at least, let’s see if we can get a streak going.”

Crowley nodded. “I swear on Satan himself that I won’t harm you.”

Aziraphale cringed at the name but nodded his agreement. He knelt and broke the cuffs from Crowley’s wrists. Crowley sighed and rubbed each wrist in turn. 

“There’s a bed through there.” Aziraphale motioned to a side door. “It’s just to keep up appearances for guests. I don’t sleep, of course, but I think you could do with somewhere a bit softer to lie down.” 

Crowley grunted and stood with an arm braced against the wall. The world swayed. Soft hands reached out and supported him, careful to avoid the burned patches. Aziraphale helped him make it to the bedroom and lie down on the soft mattress. Crowley sighed and settled into the softness. He was asleep the instant he stilled.

@ / &^

The sun was setting over the mediteranean. Crowely’s magic had returned to him a few weeks prior and the burns had healed to fresh pink skin. In time, even the scars would fade back to perfect porcelain skin. He leaned his head easily against Aziraphale’s shoulder and swirled his glass of wine thoughtfully. “You know, angel, I’m not sure either of us ever said I had to leave at a certain point, only that it was an option.”

“Hmmm,” Aziraphale hummed, taking a sip of his own drink. “Heaven wouldn’t like that, a demon hanging around me.”

“Oh, well, perfect then. Hell wouldn’t like you hanging around me either. Looks like we’ll both be doing an excellent job.”

Aziraphale smiled and tilted his head to press a chaste kiss to Crowley’s forehead. Crowley hummed and pulled himself up to catch Aziraphale’s lips as they were retreating. The sun set over them, revealing the bright smiles of the galaxies above. 

**Author's Note:**

> This (@ / &^) was me trying to make an angel and a demon.


End file.
